


Like Honey

by escritoireazul



Category: Goblin Market - Christina Rossetti
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/F, Oral Sex, Sibling Incest, Trick or Treat 2015
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-21
Updated: 2015-10-21
Packaged: 2018-04-27 09:28:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5042983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/escritoireazul/pseuds/escritoireazul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Laura comes home from a university Halloween party worn out, worn down, worn thin, telling tales of goblin men in intricate costumes and their delicate, delicious fruit, the solution Lizzie finds will transform them both.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Honey

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ijemanja](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ijemanja/gifts).



“Darn it, Laura!” 

Laura squirmed out from under the pile of blankets and pillows and squinted against the bright light. Slowly, her vision resolved to show her sister standing in the doorway, hands on her hips, lips pursed. She looked far too much like Mother.

“Darn it, Laura!” Laura chirped, and pasted on a grin. “For shame, Lizzie, you very nearly said a curse word, and then what would happen to your reputation?”

“How many times do I have to tell you to keep your—“ there was a brief hesitation, and Laura had a long list of words she could fill into that space “—mess on your side of the room?”

“At least once more.” Laura buried her head under her pillow. She was exhausted, sleep heavy on her bones. “What time is it?”

“Seven!”

Well no wonder she was tired. “Why the hell are you waking me up at seven a.m.?” It didn’t come out as angry as she wanted, but that was okay. She had never been her best at the crack of dawn.

“Seven at night!” Lizzie cried. Slowly, Laura rolled out from under the pillow and blinked. “I came to get you for dinner, and you’re still asleep?”

Laura counted, or tried to. What time had she fallen asleep? Maybe ten hours ago. Maybe fifteen. She couldn’t remember.

“I’m tired,” she murmured, and closed her eyes.

“You’ve been tired for days.” The bed dipped a little as Lizzie sat, pushing at Laura until she made room, then pressed soft, cool hands to Laura’s face. Laura shivered, tugged the blanket closer to her chin. “I’m worried about you. I think,” but she stopped, didn’t say anything else until Laura opened her eyes. “I think there was something – that party.”

“The goblin men,” Laura said, and smiled a little at the memory, their masks, their wild clothes, the way they danced around her, bodies twisting, thrusting against hers. The one who touched her first wore a cat’s face, eyes wide and dark behind gray fur and long whiskers; another had a tail draped elegantly over one arm while he danced. They called to each other, and laughed as they spun, and she was swept up in their embrace from her first step onto the dance floor.

Lizzie didn’t return the smile. “They gave you something,” she prompted, and even though Laura had already told her the story, over breakfast -- coffee and ice water for Laura, all she could handle, scrambled eggs and bacon for Lizzie, with fresh fruit, of course, clean and simple bananas and apples -- after the party finally ended, Laura told her again of the dancing, the sparkling dust on their skin, the way they felt under her hands and mouth, bodies quivering, the candied fruit so sweet it had to be laced with something that made her blood sing and her heart race.

“Mmm.” Lizzie stroked back her hair. “I’ll get you some water,” she said at last. “You’re probably dehydrated.”

“M’tired,” Laura mumbled, but she was already falling asleep.

#

Laura woke to her sister’s voice again, repeating her name. She sat up, shoved the blanket off her shoulders, the weight of it, the heat, too much.

“I found your goblins,” Lizzie said, and didn’t bother to hide her anger behind a sweet smile and a gentle voice.

“What?” Laura asked. The shock of anger -- and, strangely, fear, why the hell was she afraid? -- that shot through her was muted, and she couldn’t make it to her feet. She plucked at the blanket haphazardly thrown across her lap, mostly falling onto the floor. 

“They are – very persuasive.” Lizzie smiled a little at that, but it wasn’t a smile she’d ever seen on her sister’s face before. “But never mind that. Come on.” She stripped off her coat, tossed it over the back of her desk chair, and spread her arms wide. Her arms were bare beneath the short, lacy sleeves of her lavender shirt; there was a hint of color in patches on her skin, something glistening and dark.

“Come on?” Laura repeated, voice still weak.

“Come to me,” Lizzie said. “I braved your wicked goblin men, and I’ve brought you their fruit.” She stepped closer, and Laura could smell it, then, delicacies so sweet it was sickening, just on the edge of bursting through skin, spilling pulp and juice sticky across her fingers and palms.

Lizzie huffed when Laura did nothing, and sank onto the bed next to her, reaching for her, hands soft and cool. “Kiss me, Laura,” she said. “Like you did them. Drink me, what I’ve brought, put your mouth on me where their mouths touched, their fingers, their skin.” There was a spark in her eyes. “Eat me. Love me.”

She leaned closer, until her breath washed across Laura’s mouth, and energy ran through Laura in a rush. She surged upright, pushed Lizzie back, and though she was rough, frantic, her sister laughed and grinned, body pliant, welcoming.

Laura knelt between Lizzie’s legs, and pushed her short skirt up, baring pale thighs. Bruises stood out like the after-image of goblin fruit; slowly, and with great care, she pressed her thumb against one until Lizzie squirmed, a whimper cut off in the back of her throat.

“Laura,” Lizzie said, her voice weak. Laura stopped, thumbs pushed into her sister’s skin, and waited for Lizzie to shout in disgust, to scream for help, to send her away. “Laura.” Again, just her name, in that quiet voice.

Cool fingers brushed Laura’s chin, and she looked up, met Lizzie’s gaze at last. Lizzie’s eyes were wide, lips parted and damp, and her breath came quick.

“Laura.” Third time’s the charm, and Laura felt like that stupid old saying was true, three times became a spell, and Lizzie held Laura still with nothing but her voice and some secret magic. “Don’t stop.”

Lizzie buried her face between Laura’s thighs, spreading her open with shaking fingers. She was slick everywhere, dark hair trimmed short and neat, and her clit just starting to show under its hood. Lizzie was nothing like the goblins, but as she stared, breathed in, breathed out, her mouth began to burn, and the sick-sweet scent of goblin fruit was everywhere.

“Please,” Lizzie said, tugging at Laura’s hair. “Please, oh please, oh please.”

With a cry like beast, Laura sank into her sister, set mouth and teeth and tongue to her, and Lizzie broke off into a long, wordless keen of pleasure. There was a long moment where Laura knew nothing but the taste of her sister, sweet-sour across her tongue. She fell into the darkness behind her closed eyes, mouth working, licking, sucking Lizzie's juices. She could feel the thrum of Lizzie’s pulse – light and fast, so different from the slow thud of the goblin men – beneath her tongue. 

It was like the party again, the goblin men and their candy and their bodies, pulp filling her mouth, dew down her throat, but even more delicious, swollen fruit so wet and sweet. She slipped her thumbs through Lizzie’s folds, spread them wide, slid her tongue deep into her body, teasing out breathless cries and shuddering breath.

Laura circled her clit with the pad of her thumb, not quite touching, and Lizzie’s body arched up, legs falling open farther. That gave her room to slide her arms under Lizzie’s thighs, lifting her hips, cradling her body like a sacred thing, something to drink, to devour.

Lizzie pressed her hand to the back of Laura’s head, a slow, soft stroke through her hair. Laura raised her head, pushing into that caress, and gazed up Lizzie’s body, half drunk on her juices. She could feel them, honey-thick and smeared across her lips, down her chin.

“Laura,” Lizzie breathed. “Laura, _please_.”

Laura shifted until she could work one arm free, then pressed her fingers inside. Lizzie’s body opened for her easily, soft and wet and warm, two fingers, then three. She clamped down on them, crying out, Laura’s name sweet on her lips, a penitent prayer – a dark praise.

The smell of her was everywhere, and the taste, the heat of her skin. Laura eased back the protective little hood over her clit, then a long, slow swipe along the length of her cunt. Lizzie shuddered, body tense, and when Laura followed it with short, fast licks right across her clit, pressing down each time, her body vibrated like a guitar string twisted too tight.

Her voice rose in a long, continuous note, pleading and praise melted into one, and then Laura tasted everything, fruit in her throat, juices spilling across her tongue. She devoured her sister, drank her down, swallowed every drop.

By the time Laura came back to herself, her arms were bruised from the press of Lizzie’s legs against her, and her jaw ached, and legs were going numb. She slowly pushed herself upright, and found Lizzie watching her, smile sweet, serene – but there was something to the twist of her mouth that made Laura’s chest tight.

“Come here,” Lizzie said, and gathered Laura into her arms. She wrapped slim fingers around Laura’s wrist and brought Laura’s hand to her mouth, then ran a nimble little tongue across her palm, up to the pads of her fingers, down between each, finding every last bit of herself.

She was naked, all her skin bared, though Laura didn’t remember stripping away her clothes. Bruises stood out vivid against her skin on her arms and her breasts, stomach and calves, and Laura touched one then another, pressed down just enough to make Lizzie suck in a sharp breath.

“My dear Laura,” she said, gathering her closer, “come and kiss me.”

She tasted of goblin fruit, sickly sweet, and underneath it, the dark thread of desire, corrupting, corrupter, corrupted.


End file.
